


give you everything i have

by glowinghorizons



Series: you're in my heart [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6885415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>His hand finds her hip and pulls her closer, his lips just barely ghosting over hers, causing her to shiver. "I've been wanting you," he whispers, his voice like gravel. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Clarke sighs, but she's smiling. She doesn't think she's stopped smiling since they somehow managed to turn Finn's impromptu peace talks into actual peace talks. </i>
</p><p> <i>And then there's Bellamy.</i></p><p> Alternate ending to 1x09 "Unity Day".</p>
            </blockquote>





	give you everything i have

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a whim. Takes place after 1x09 “Unity Day”. Secret relationship trope because why not. Title and lyrics within come from the song “Light” by Sleeping At Last.
> 
>  **Update 7/22/16:**  
>   
>  This fic has been nominated in the 2016 Bellarke Fanfiction Awards for Best Canon Oneshot fic! If you want to see the other nominees and vote for your faves, click [here.](http://bellarkefanfictionawards.tumblr.com/post/147720433667/wow-almost-80-people-filled-out-nomination-forms)  
> 

Clarke ducks under the flap of the tent, feeling a hand grasp her elbow to help her navigate her way in the dark. 

The campfire in the middle of camp is still going strong, the teenagers still celebrating a miraculous truce formed with the grounders. The distraction gave her an opportunity to slip away, and her feet took her here, but apparently she wasn't as sneaky as she thought.

"Fancy meeting you here." Bellamy's voice is a low rasp, and Clarke feels momentarily guilty when she realizes she must have woken him. 

"I didn't know you were asleep, I'll--"

"Don't." He pulls her back towards him, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. His tent is warm, and the slight glow from the campfire provides a cozy night light. "I haven't seen you all day."

"I was with Anya. I thought I told you that?"

Bellamy smiles, tugs Clarke over so she's standing between his legs as he leans against the table in his tent. "You did, I just didn't think you'd be gone the whole day." His hand finds her hip and pulls her closer, his lips just barely ghosting over hers, causing her to shiver. "I've been wanting you," he whispers, his voice like gravel. 

Clarke sighs, but she's smiling. She doesn't think she's stopped smiling since they somehow managed to turn Finn's impromptu peace talks into _actual_ peace talks. 

And then there's Bellamy. 

His fingers skim along the hem of her shirt as he noses along her collarbone, and she suppresses a laugh when he gets to a sensitive spot on her neck. She knows the smile on her face has more than a little bit to do with him, too. 

_"What if Bellamy would have shot her?!" Finn rages, pacing, as they get back from the meeting with Anya on the bridge._

_"I didn't, though." Bellamy points out._

_Clarke shoots him a look effectively telling him to shut up, and he raises an eyebrow at her before doing as she asks, huffing._

_"Look, Finn, I asked him to come with us. We didn't know what we were walking into. It could have been a trap!"_

_"It was peace talks, Clarke. The key word being 'peace'."_

_"She's right," Bellamy says. "There were Grounders in the trees. It could have gone bad any second."_

_"I told you--"_

_"Finn, I know what you said," Clarke interrupts, exasperated. "I didn't trust them, that's all. It didn't feel right."_

_"You didn't have to trust the grounders. You just had to trust me!" Finn shouts, and then he storms out of the tent, leaving Clarke and Bellamy alone._

_"That went well." Bellamy says finally, his hand coming up to run through his hair._

_"It could have gone worse," Clarke says. "You could have shot Anya."_

_Bellamy lets out a sharp laugh, a relieved sound. "Yeah. I--" he stops himself, looking at her seriously. "I was close, Clarke. When she went for that knife, I thought--"_

_"I did too. But I felt safe because I knew you had my back."_

_The atmosphere in the tent changes immediately, Bellamy seemingly realizing how close they're standing if the hitch in his breath is anything to go by._

_Clarke thinks about the look in his eyes from earlier, the way he smiled at her and seemed to mean it. The way he looked at her and for once they were just Clarke and Bellamy, two kids forced to grow up too soon and who trusted each other beyond a doubt._

_"Clarke..." Bellamy whispers, his hand coming up to brush against her cheek, and then her jaw. "I'm going to kiss you now."_

_Clarke isn't sure what to say, so she says nothing, instead choosing to meet him halfway, stretching up onto her toes to brush her lips against his, once, twice and then three times until he cradles her jaw, deepening the kiss with a low groan._

_He has to bend down slightly to kiss her, both of his large hands coming up to cup her face, and Clarke can feel the way he's shaking just slightly. She feels the same way._

_Somehow she ends up pressed against the makeshift table in his tent, the rough edge digging into her back as she searches for leverage. Bellamy is taller than her, and positively towers over her as he kisses her, but it doesn't feel dominating. He kisses her leisurely, slowly, like he has all the time in the world._

_Maybe -- now that they aren't on the verge of war anymore -- maybe they do._

That was three weeks ago, and even though the kids are still using the truce as an excuse to drink moonshine and stay up late, things have mostly gone back to normal.

Anya has started having regular meetings with Clarke and Bellamy, trying to prepare them for the impending trip the grounder Commander will be making to Anya's village in a few weeks. She teaches them some of the grounder language, teaches them how she thinks the commander will respond to the truce, and what they should do if it becomes void. 

Clarke truly believes that Anya wants peace. It's better now, now that they aren't always looking over their shoulders or being afraid to leave the walls all hours of the day and night. 

It's meant more time for Clarke to get to know Bellamy, too. Now that they aren't a fighting for their lives every second, they can actually talk, a luxury they've never had before. Clarke learns about Bellamy's mom, and what happened to Octavia. She learns that he loves history and politics and fresh picked apples. She learns that he's ticklish right behind his left ear and that when she kisses that spot, he almost melts on the spot. 

She learns that he's wanted to kiss her since the morning they went on their day trip to the bunker, and that he almost did after their run in with Dax. 

She tells him about Finn, and Raven, and how everything got so messed up and that she's never felt more alone then she did when she found out that the one person she thought she had on her side was only looking out for himself. 

She learns that Bellamy kisses like he speaks -- full of passion and without relent -- and that he makes her head feel hazy, like the entire world could burn down around them and they wouldn't know it. 

The last few days have kept them busy preparing for some bad weather ahead, and Bellamy has been preoccupied with trying to accept that his sister has gone and fallen in love with a grounder. That, combined with Clarke's meeting at the grounder village with Anya today, means that they haven't seen each other in close to 24 hours, which seems to have affected both of them more than they thought it would. 

"I've been wanting you too," Clarke says, quietly. He must sense the difference in her words compared to his, because he glances up, meeting her light eyes with his dark ones, his brow furrowing. 

"You okay?" 

Clarke takes a deep breath, embarrassed that she can feel tears welling up behind her eyes. "Fine. I'm just-- I'm tired, and I haven't been sleeping, and I've been wanting to see you, and--"

"Hey," Bellamy shushes her, kissing her forehead. "It's okay." 

They're both quiet for a few seconds, Bellamy's hand running through her hair gently.

"I need to sleep." She tells him, feeling her body practically melt into his as the exhaustion from the day catches up to her. 

He takes her hand and wordlessly leads her to his mattress. They curl around each other easily, fitting together like puzzle pieces. It feels… it feels intimate, to be this way with him. Clarke worries sometimes that whatever this is between them is too much, too fast, but she never says a word about it out loud.

In the last few weeks, she’s come to know a different side of Bellamy, and she knows a big part of him thinks that he isn’t worthy of anyone’s love, or affection. She doesn’t want to make him feel insecure and she knows her worries about this thing between them are purely because of her. 

She doesn’t want to get burned by someone else she cares about, especially when Bellamy is becoming more and more important to her as the days go on. 

“Can you turn off your brain for one night?” his voice interrupts her thoughts. His tone is teasing, his hand absentmindedly leaving patterns on her skin, the rough pads of his fingers causing goosebumps to erupt in their wake. 

“No,” she retorts, stubbornly. 

He chuckles, pulling her against him a little tighter, her back to his chest. “You’re going to have a mental breakdown if you keep this up.”

Clarke frowns, feeling stupid. She knows she’s overreacting and letting her own insecurities get in the way of being happy, but she can’t help it. Ever since they landed, the other shoe has _always_ dropped. Things have never gone their way. Why should a relationship with Bellamy Blake be any different? “Sorry I’m not as easy going as you are, Bellamy. I’m sorry I can’t just _relax_.”

She hears him inhale slowly. 

“O- _kay_ … so you want to tell me what’s _really_ going on?” He asks, tugging her elbow gently so she rolls over to face him. He props his head up on his free hand, looking at her curiously. “I know you’ve had a long day, but this sounds a little personal.”

Clarke huffs. “It’s not. I’m not-- I just spend every single day worrying about everything that could possibly go wrong in camp, with the Grounders, if the Ark comes down--”

“You think I’m not worrying about those things too?” His voice is controlled, but she can see the hurt that he’s trying to mask, and she hates that she’s the one who put it there. “I’m not--” he stops himself, that muscle in his jaw jumping. “I know how I was when we first came down here, Clarke, but I’ve been _trying_. I’m trying to be better for these kids and for the camp and--” he stops himself again, the unsaid _for you_ ringing in the air between the two of them. 

“I’m sorry.” Clarke whispers, bringing up her hand to touch his face, his eyes closing at the contact. “I didn’t mean-- I wasn’t trying to blame you. I’m just so tired.” 

Bellamy’s eyes soften. “I am too, princess. I am too.” 

.

.

The next day is more of the same. Clarke is busy all day treating allergies and small injuries now that the weather is turning, and more kids are feeling restless. She gets a small break around lunch time and barely has time to scarf down some meat and fruit before Miller comes to get her, worried that he might have broken his wrist. 

As she walks to the dropship, she shoots an apologetic look in Bellamy’s direction, who smirks at her and waves her off, clearing the spot next to him near the fire that he had clearly been saving for her. When she looks back towards the dropship, Finn is watching her, a frown on his face, and Clarke blushes, feeling like she’s been caught.

She hasn’t figured out what to do about Finn yet, and she doesn’t want to deal with it. She keeps telling herself that she doesn’t owe him any explanations, because he certainly didn’t give her one, but she hasn’t actually gotten around to saying it out loud yet.

“No wonder you’re stressed out,” Miller comments as they walk up the ramp to the dropship. “If I had those puppy dog eyes following me around all day I’d be stressed out too.” 

Clarke bites her cheek to hide a smile. “Shut up.” 

Miller grins at her, and she resists the urge to punch his shoulder. 

“Sit down, this is going to hurt.”

.

Clarke finally gets a break when it’s already dark out, dinner long over. There are a few people hanging around, but not the one person she was hoping to see, so she sighs and heads over to the smokehouse, hoping there’s a little bit of food left that she can snag for herself. 

“Here,” a voice at her shoulder says, and she looks over to see Miller holding out a tin with some berries, nuts and a few pieces of meat. 

“Thanks.” Clarke takes it, smiling at him hesitantly as she heads back out towards the fire. She sighs as she sits down, enjoying the feeling of _finally_ being off her feet. 

“He’s in his tent.” Miller tells her, and Clarke smiles, embarrassed that she’s been caught looking. “He’s probably still awake. He only went in there a few minutes ago.”

“Thanks, Miller.” Clarke says, using his shoulder for leverage as she stands up. “And can you--”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he says. “But you owe me.” 

Clarke makes her way to Bellamy’s tent again in the darkness, the path towards his door well-worn. She thinks about how different things are now. Instead of everyone being afraid of him, they all come to him with their problems and disputes, probably more than he would like. He’s better now, though. He’s not as quick to anger, and she can see the soft spot he has for these kids, especially the younger ones. 

When she comes through the tent flap, she stops, Bellamy’s back to her as he shaves carefully in the dim light of a lantern and a cracked mirror that they found in the bunker. He’s shirtless, which is-- well, it’s not what Clarke was expecting, and she can’t quite tear her eyes away.

“See something you like?” He asks, the asshole, his lips twisting upwards in a smile. “I’m almost done. Make yourself at home.” 

She sits on the edge of his mattress, eating a few berries while she watches him. “I can’t believe you’re actually using that thing to shave your face,” she comments.

“You act like it was covered in rust when I found it,” he jokes, because it _was_. The old straight razor was in a leather case, but it took a lot of cleaning up before Clarke would even let him come near his face with it. 

“I hope you have your shots.” 

“You’d take care of me if I didn’t,” he retorts, and somehow the words are laced with innuendo, even when they’re talking about immunizations. Clarke snorts. 

“That was terrible and so are you.” 

Bellamy rinses off his face and pats it dry with his shirt, turning to face her “Terrible, huh? You didn’t seem to think so a few mornings ago when I--”

“People are trying to eat,” she cuts him off, glaring.

He laughs, his eyes positively alight with mischief, and Clarke narrows her eyes as he sits down next to her. He opens his mouth, probably to be a smart ass, but he stops when he hears footsteps near his tent. Clarke freezes, her eyes going wide because _no one knows yet_. 

“Bellamy? Are you still awake?” 

_Finn._

Of course it’s Finn, Clarke thinks. How else could this day get worse?

“Get under the blanket,” Bellamy hisses.

“What?” 

“Just do it. Pretend you’re asleep.” 

“Bellamy--”

“Clarke. He’s going to find out sooner or later, and he’s not going to be happy. I’d much rather have him take out his misplaced and completely unjustified anger on me than you, okay? Can you do what I’m asking for once in your life?” He sounds exasperated but fond, and a warmth fills Clarke’s chest at his words because _he’s trying to protect her_. It’s completely unnecessary, but still. It’s the thought that counts.

She sets her tin of food off to one side, pulling back a corner of the blanket so she can slip underneath. 

“Just a minute,” Bellamy calls out to Finn, helping Clarke tuck herself in. Seemingly unable to help himself, he presses a sweet kiss to her forehead, causing her to blush. “It’ll be alright,” he whispers to her, before turning to the tent entrance. “Hey, man. Before you come in--”

“It’s getting cold, Bellamy, just let me--” Finn interrupts, taking two steps into the tent before he stops in his tracks. 

Clarke keeps her eyes shut, hoping she doesn’t twitch or do anything to give herself away. She doesn’t think she could move if she wanted to, though, for how tense she is. 

“I was going to say, let’s just talk outside. She hasn’t been sleeping and--”

“Why is she in here?” 

Clarke mentally rolls her eyes at the thinly veiled jealousy she can hear in Finn’s voice, and she honestly can’t see how Bellamy is going to get them out of this situation without someone getting punched.

“She’s--” Bellamy starts, but then he stops, and Clarke can picture the way he looks when he’s trying to decide what to say. “She sleeps in here sometimes.” 

“She-- why?” Finn splutters, but Clarke knows he’s put two and two together. Bellamy seems to know this too, because he just sighs, sounding more tired of the pretense than anything else.

“Look, man, it’s not really your business, okay? Did you need something?”

Finn scoffs then, a sound that Clarke hates hearing. She knows he’s about to say something that’s going to make Bellamy furious, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to just sit here and pretend to be asleep while it happens. 

“I wanted to talk to you about the hunting party for tomorrow. Obviously you’re busy,” Finn says, his voice tight.

A beat, and then Bellamy’s own tightly controlled voice, packed with meaning despite only saying one word. “Obviously.” 

Clarke can picture him -- arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes focused and almost daring Finn to say something out of line about what he walked into, or _thinks_ he walked into. 

“He’s gone,” Bellamy says, his low voice softer, such a contrast from the way he was just speaking to Finn. 

Clarke turns over and sits up, watching as Bellamy’s fists stay clenched by his sides. “Hey,” she reaches out, trying to grasp his hand. “Thanks for doing that.” 

“He’s going to tell people, you know.” Bellamy says, his tone not giving him away, but Clarke knows what he’s going for. 

“It’s like you said. It was going to get out sooner or later.” Clarke says carefully, making sure to meet his eyes so he understands that she doesn’t care what people think. 

A slow smile forms on Bellamy’s face, completely transforming him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“So… can we get back to talking about that thing that I did with my--”

“ _Terrible_.” 

Bellamy laughs, and it’s the best sound Clarke has ever heard.

.

.

The light coming through the tent causes Clarke to scrunch her nose in discontent. She turns around, pressing her face against Bellamy’s shoulder, groaning unhappily. She knows it’s still early. The birds aren’t even making noise yet, but for some reason, the sun is out, and she’s so _tired_. 

“What are you doing?” Bellamy’s voice, rough with sleep, permeates her sleep-addled brain, and she whines. 

“It’s too bright.” 

“Let me just go outside and turn down the sun.” 

“How can you possibly be a smart ass this early in the morning?” 

Bellamy chuckles and lifts his arm so she can use his chest as a pillow. Humming, she wriggles around until she’s comfortable, their legs tangling together and a kiss pressed to her temple causing her to sigh. “I have to get ready for the hunting party,” Bellamy reminds her, tucking the corner of the blanket back around her bare shoulder.

“Five more minutes. We haven’t slept in since we landed on the ground.” 

Bellamy sighs, but Clarke can feel his lips curve upwards from where they’re brushing along her hairline. “Five more minutes,” he agrees. 

Outside, she can hear the sounds of other kids waking up and going outside, but she just wants to stay here with him for a little while longer. She figures by now Finn has told at least one other person about her and Bellamy, and she just wants to keep things between them for a few more minutes. 

When they finally leave the tent, Bellamy’s fingers loosely tangled in hers, people shoot them both knowing looks. No one looks as smug as Miller though, although Octavia gives him a run for his money.

“I _knew it_.” She says. “Wait until Lincoln hears about this; he owes me, like, a hundred flowers.” 

Bellamy rolls his eyes, but Clarke can tell he’s just as happy as she is. It feels… it feels easy, to be out here like this, with them. Even when all their friends are making fun of them, Clarke doesn’t think she’s ever felt so at ease. 

“So, you want to call this off? Now that the secret’s out, the spark just doesn’t seem to be there anymore.” Bellamy says, his face solemn even as his eyes sparkle. 

“Probably. It’s been fun.” Clarke shrugs one shoulder, letting go of his hand. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Maybe. You know. Whatever.” Bellamy says, and they both turn to head their separate ways. When Clarke turns around to call after him, he’s already there, and in two steps he’s got her face cradled in his palms, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that she feels all the way to her toes. 

People are whistling at them, but Clarke doesn’t care, not when Bellamy is smiling so much. “Looking at you, princess,” he whispers when they break apart, leaving whatever happens next up to her. 

“Okay, let’s all get back to work,” Clarke says to the crowd, everyone laughing as she flips off Miller, who hasn’t stopped clapping since Clarke and Bellamy kissed. 

“I always knew you were a badass, Clarke.” Bellamy says, laughing. He squeezes her hand one last time before heading over to coordinate the day’s work schedule with Miller and Clarke heads to the medbay, her head and her heart feeling a lot lighter than they have in months, even before she came to the ground.

_I will rearrange the stars,_

_Pull ‘em down to where you are._

_I promise, I’ll do better._

_With every heartbeat I have left,_

_I’ll defend your every breath._

**Author's Note:**

> Come be Bellarke trash with me on Tumblr @dreamingundone :)


End file.
